"tell me."
in words we'll both understand,
as if i'm not a collection of attempts,
this conversation is an exercise in love;
for lack of a better word,
for lack of a thesaurus.

at least our breath smells good.

it should be noted in the form of a disclaimer,
en dos idiomas,
with bold lettering on important words;

this conversation may contain small doses of
california,
which may cause irritability, memory loss,
and self-centered-ness,

california; a conscious state with strikingly beautiful features,
also known to cause cancer of the imagination,
blurred vision, and loss of humility,

california is a disorder, which i chose,
in which the brain lacks calinine forniase,
the rare enzyme needed to convert califorine to losangeline.
left untreated, this disorder can cause esteem damage
and progressive deconstruction of the soul.

but i'm here,
with you
and we are in this together.
"tell me," you say,
as if i am not a plethora of attempts.
can't you see that i am trying.
am i that hard to read.

california is just another container in which i chose to live,
in avoidance of all other options,
california is just an example
of an attempt to collect all things unique,
in order to show how everything is a synonym for something else.

but i'm here with you,
strategically placed side-by-side
and you have been patiently waiting for me to open,
cocoon style,
like a regular word italicized,
but i'm hesitant,
i'm pensive,
i'm waiting for the right word choice,

and so we've been chewing breath mints to pass the time,
thus, this conversation may contain phenylalanine,
which, in all likelihood is worse than bad breath.

04/15/2006

Posted on 04/16/2006
Copyright © 2025 Frankie Sanchez